


a time to let go

by skrsgards



Series: Bill Skargård Works [12]
Category: Bill Skarsgard - Fandom
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skrsgards/pseuds/skrsgards
Summary: in which it all falls apart in his hands





	a time to let go

You were holding your breath. It was caught within your chest, you couldn’t let it go, just like the pair of hands you held in your own. Strong, warm, familiar. You could never, would never, forget what they felt like. 

He was trembling, but so were you. His eyes were shining as brightly as the stars above your head, but they were not shining with joy. They were shining with tears, threatening to spill down his rosy cheeks, to mar his beautiful face with the essence of his heartbreak. 

You could already feel the distance between you, mountains growing, valleys spanning. Soon, you would be worlds apart, and you weren’t sure that you were ready for it. Yet here you were, about to let go of him, about to let those mountains and valleys separate you. 

He held your hands tighter, and you choked on the lump that had formed in your throat, like a string of leather knotted over. He was silently begging you not to let go, but you knew, in your heart, that you had to do this. It was for the best, that was what you’d convinced yourself. 

Unfortunately, it hurt worse than you ever could have imagined. 

It was hard to imagine how it had all been before this moment. You were so far removed from that carefree happiness, that stage of young love and devotion. It all seemed like something from a storybook now. And maybe that’s what it was, just a story, a fabrication of what you believed yourselves to be. Happy? Had that been what you really felt? Or had it all been a lie?

Bill knew it wasn’t. There were many things he was not certain of in life, but this he did know: he loved you. Beyond measure, beyond comprehension. But he was realizing now that just his love hadn’t been enough. You’d needed more, and he’d failed to see that until it was too late. 

It had all begun to fall apart at the seams months ago. His absence, stretching over long periods of time, had taken the greatest of tolls on you. You’d told yourself that you could deal with it. After all, this came with the territory. His work kept him away, there was nothing he could do about that, and you were understanding of that fact, truly. 

But you were alone on your end. Looking back on it, you knew the timing wasn’t right. You were just finishing your last year of university - a degree in education. You were on different sides of the world, in vastly different time zones, going after dreams that were not meant to be intertwined. 

You struggled greatly while he was away. No one was there to quiz you on your studies, or cheer you on, or encourage you. Bill, in turn, was struggling as well. His struggles were weaved in with loneliness. He did not like being alone, he’d decided. He liked company, liked voices and laughter to distract him from the silence. He liked liveliness, and right then, at that point in his life, he had none of that. 

He was living out his dream, yes. And he would not trade that for anything in the world. But it was a rather dismal process. He missed you so badly, it put a constant ache in his chest. When he needed you most, which was normally after a day of filming, you were not there. You were sound asleep, safe in your bed, while he was holed up in a sparsely furnished apartment with the television playing in the background to provide noise. 

He fell asleep on a couch that was too small for him and woke up with a crick in his neck. He was tempted to pretend to be sick and call in to set, telling them he wouldn’t be there. But he wasn’t one to be difficult, and he didn’t want to slow down production schedule. So on he went.

When you did have time to talk, your conversations were short. How are you’s and I miss you’s were exchanged. What did you do today’s and I hope you slept well’s. Hardly enough to sustain you. However, despite the fact that you were both having a hard time, you pressed on with the hope and knowledge that it would all be over soon, that you would see each other again. 

When he finally did come home, you were relieved beyond belief. He was your again, yours to hold, to love and cherish. But you were foolish to believe that things would be the same. You quickly came to find that while Bill was there, with you, he wasn’t actually there. He came home with a lot on his mind. Distracted, distant, as if he was still thousands of miles away. 

“This role changed you,” you said to him, one evening as you sat at the dinner table. It was silent, save for the tap and scrape of cutlery on plates. His eyes, so bright and clear, flickered up to you. 

The tone in your voice suggested that the role had affected him a bit negatively. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you were wrong. But he knew you weren’t. He only sighed, and said, “I’m sorry.”

The nightmares only added insult to injury. He woke up gasping for breath each night, upsetting the bed covers and waking you each time. You were there for him, you offered comfort when he needed, let him sleep with his head on your bosom, ran your fingers through his hair, assured him that he was fine and that it was only a dream. 

When the nightmares stopped, another bad dream began. But this one was real. You were pushed even farther apart. He had to leave again, had to go promote his movie, had to attend premiers and talk to important higher-ups. He’d invited you, of course. Said he couldn’t do it without you, that he wanted no one else by his side but you. 

But you couldn’t go with him. You were approaching the home stretch of your final semester, you couldn’t afford to slack off and take weeks off at a time. You had to be on top of everything. You’d kissed Bill and told him you loved him, that you’d see him when he got back. 

It’s funny how things can change in a matter of weeks. Your unhappiness only manifested further, and you began to reevaluate everything. Were you unhappy because you were away from Bill, or unhappy because you were with him, in a relationship? One that was unfulfilling and now empty, it seemed. 

You began to struggle deeply with this thought. When the suggestion of ending it crossed your mind one night while you lay awake in bed, you brushed it off immediately, telling yourself you were just being dramatic, that there was no need to break it off, when he came back home you could patch it all up again and everything would be fine. 

But the next day, a fateful day, you were finally given a sign that ending it really was for the best. Your favorite professor, your mentor, as you liked to call her, pulled you aside after class one afternoon, and proposed a job offer to you. She said there was a space open in a school in Côte d’Ivoire. It was a small school, one room, and they were in desperate need of a teacher, lest the school be shut down. She informed you that she thought you were incredibly well suited for the job, and that you would be starting soon after graduating. 

You told her you’d think it over, but as you left that day, you knew in your heart that the job was meant for you, that it was truly your calling. You would be a fool to turn it down, you knew. There were children that needed you, needed an education. It weighed so heavy on your heart for the rest of the day and well into the next, that you told her you would take the job. 

She was excited for you, overjoyed, telling you she’d help you with anything you needed as you started on this journey. You shared her joy, but in the back of your mind, you knew you’d gone about this all wrong. You always consulted Bill when making any big decisions. It was what you did as a couple, you decided things together. 

But you were so far removed from that system anymore, that you had a feeling it no longer mattered. This was how you would tell him you were leaving, that you could no longer stay with him. He would be crushed, you knew he would. Or maybe he felt the same way you did, maybe he’d been looking for an out for months and had just been to afraid to say anything. You hoped that was the case, because you didn’t want to break his heart. You couldn’t bare to see him fall apart. 

You didn’t think it appropriate to tell him the news of your job over the phone. You waited until he got home to do so. When you broke the news to him, you would finally follow up with your announcement that you were through, that you could no longer remain his. 

You rehearsed it a thousand times over in your head, yet when the moment finally came, and you were standing in the airport waiting to see him again, you were riddled with anxiety, and everything you’d gone over in your head seemed to become forgotten. 

When he walked through the gate and saw you, a wide, contagious smile broke across his face, and he strolled over to you. You did not smile, you couldn’t even force it. Bill noticed this right away, but he didn’t say anything. Only wrapped you in a hug, whispered how much he missed you, how he couldn’t wait to tell you all about what he’d done in his time away. 

“Let’s go home,” you’d said, softly.

He ran his fingertips over your cheek. “Is something wrong, love?” He inquired. 

You took his hand in your own. “Noth…nothing. I just want to go home.”

So, home you went. It was dark outside, and the stars were so breathtakingly bright. Bill pointed them out to you, but you couldn’t appreciate them. All you could feel was dread, anxiety, sadness. 

When he pulled up outside of the house in which you lived, you didn’t say a word. You walked with him up to the porch, waited for him to unlock the door, watched him lug his suitcases inside. But you didn’t budge. You stayed on the porch, as if you were being held there by an invisible force.

When Bill turned around, his brow furrowed. “You coming in?”

“Bill?” Your voice was more unsteady than you intended it to be.

Bill swallowed, gaze never leaving you. “Yes?”

“I…I have to talk to you.”

His chest tightened a little, and he rested his hand on the doorknob. “Let’s talk inside.”

No. You would suffocate in there. You needed the fresh air, the openness. “Please come out here.”

With a sigh, Bill complied, stepping back onto the porch and closing the door behind him before approaching you. “What’s going on?”

Your throat constricted. Not now. You couldn’t start crying already. When you didn’t answer, Bill grabbed your hands, squeezing them comfortingly. “Sweetheart, breathe. You’ve got me worried here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, unsteady breath before looking up at him. You were afraid your voice would betray you, but you spoke anyway. “I got a job opportunity,” you said. 

“Well that’s good. Right?” He squeezed your hands again. You felt like throwing up. 

“It’s in the Ivory Coast.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh.”

“That’s alright though, yeah? We’ll work it out.” He was trying his best to be optimistic, but in his gut, he knew what was happening here. It was his turn to feel like throwing up then. 

“No, Bill. We won’t work it out.”

“We’ve worked everything else out. We can-”

You shook your head. “Did you hear me? I’m moving to the other side of the world! To live there! Unless you can move with me, there’s no way this is going to work.”

“I will move with you,” he countered, “wherever you go, I’ll go too. I’ll just arrange things so that-”

“Are you even listening to yourself? This is Africa we’re talking about. Not Sweden, not America. You’re needed here, you can’t just uproot everything and move there with me.”

Bill closed his eyes then. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Well, we’re doing it. We need to end here, on a good note.”

“How can we end on a good note?! I still love you! I want to make this work! But you’re slipping out of my grasp!”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, Bill. Things haven’t really been that great between us.” You were fighting off bitter tears, you were trembling under his hands, you were moments from falling to pieces. 

“If you would have communicated the problem to me, I would have fixed it.”

“How could you?! You were halfway across the world! I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I needed you too! You think being apart wasn’t hard for me either? It fucking sucked! I wished every single day that you could be with me. But you were too wrapped up in your studies to make time to see me! Relationships take work from both people, you know.”

“I don’t love you anymore.” There. You’d said it. More harshly than you’d meant to, but it was out in the open now. 

Bill looked at you then, and you finally noticed the tears that had brimmed in his beautiful eyes. “You…you what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

“But you…I thought…” He sputtered, swallowing hard, breathing quickly. His eyes closed again. “When?”

“What?”

“When did you know you’d stopped loving me?”

“After you came home from filming It.”

“That long ago? Why the hell did you stay with me then?!”

“I thought it would pass! I thought I was just in a weird mindset. But it didn’t go away.” You were crying then, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. Bill was, too. He hadn’t let go of your hands yet, he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep you close as long as he could, despite the fact that you were crushing him, eating him alive. 

“I still love you,” he whispered. 

“I think you should let go.”

“Don’t make me.”

“Bill…”

“What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to just deal with this?”

“You’ll find a way,” you softly spoke. 

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What else do you want me to say? I’m not happy anymore. You can’t change that. I need to do this, I need to go where my heart is leading me. And it isn’t leading me to you. Please, let me go Bill. Please.”

He swallowed down a sob, and closed his eyes again. A tear, you weren’t sure if it belonged to you or him, fell against the top of your hand. A deafening silence followed. 

“Fine,” he said, in defeat, hands already slipping from your own. “I’ll let go.”

And so, he did. Even though it broke him, even though he felt as if a jagged piece of glass had just been shoved into his heart. He let you go, and as he turned away, feeling the effects of a breaking, splintering heart, he never looked back.


End file.
